Disco Inferno, Night of Legend
Preparations It was a balmy, midsummer’s evening in late June. The sky was cloudless and the moon, barely past half-full, shone softly upon the Seireitei. Yet the atmosphere behind the white walls was not a quiet one: instead it was lively and bustling with activity. The lawns to the south-east of the Central 46 compound had been converted to an elaborate, outdoor banquet hall. Delicate, billowing sheets of silk fluttered gracefully as awnings above long rows of low tables. The lighting had been planned meticulously with paper lanterns hanging from sweeping strands in soft, pastel-colored halos of light, all in attempt to appear completely natural. The tables themselves had been set with a “garden” theme. The napkins were folded in small triangles atop elegant glassware, the crystal goblets shone in the dancing light, and the tables were adorned with beautiful centerpieces. Of course, the catering had been ordered to match such quality, and only the finest dishes from across both the Soul Society and human world would be presented at tonight’s feast. Still, it was not yet ready, and low-ranked Shinigami from multiple divisions flocked back and forth as they worked to ensure that no detail was overlooked. Nothing less than perfection was expected of them. After all, it was the Captain’s Appreciation Banquet. The had sponsored the event, and they had spared no expense when it came to such extravagances as roasted duck imported from the human world or the rose centerpieces that had been purchased from, of all places, one of the most powerful crime lords in the Rukongai. (The flowers had been quarantined and de-Kidō-ified before being placed on the tables, of course, as no room would be given to sabotage that night). However, despite funding the dinner, the SWA had, by unanimous vote, decided that the Sixth Division would host the banquet. Because of his credentials as being one of the most over-worked lieutenants in the Gotei 13, they had of course elected the lieutenant of the division—Takashi Sakuma—to be the Master of Ceremonies. Of course, ample notice of two day’s time had been given in order for him to prepare. It was a request he could not deny; not because of a deep, inner sense of selflessness or altruism, but because the SWA happened to hold certain... leverage. Two weeks earlier, Takashi had stumbled upon the captain of the Thirteenth Division lying face down in the street, apparently having bravely attempting to reach her headquarters in a drunken stupor. As her lieutenant had been nowhere in sight at the time, Takashi had taken it upon himself to help her back to her barracks. Unfortunately, little had he realized that the SWA had been lying in ambush with a horde of hidden cameras, and now he was being blackmailed with “incriminating evidence of sexual harassment in the workplace,” even though it had been the captain who had thrown HIM through the wall. But when he had pleaded his case before her, the captain he had helped refused to defend his claims, instead only fondly stroking the bottle of vintage wine with which she had been paid off with. To make matters worse, his hawk had, for some arbitrary reason, also sided with the SWA, on “account of being a woman herself,” apparently, and Takashi had been left alone. Deprived of two-night’s sleep. In a pink tuxedo. He would never understand how he managed to get himself into situations such as these. “Lieutenant Sakuma, where should these go?” one of the other workers asked as she held up a tray full of punch glasses. “On the punch table.” he said, trying to keep the strain out of his voice from stating the obvious. “Oh, right,” she said as she bustled off, moving somewhat difficultly due to the tight black skirt and vest she wore. “Sakuma-MC, the karaoke machine isn’t working!” another worker yelled excitedly as he ran up to him. “Calm down. I’m sure it’s only an issue with the wiring. Did you check to make sure that Matsushita-san hasn’t put any more chewing gum between the connectors?” “I’ll do that now sir!” the man responded as he ran off, also struggling in his constrictive suit, and Takashi sighed. At least it was some consolation that everyone had been required to wear “high class working class western-style, latest style from the human world” garb. Still, he wondered why he was the only one in pink. “It matches the ambiance” one of the representatives of the SWA had assured him. He had been tempted to respond with “having too much of a headache to be concerned about ‘ambiance,” and that the headache was courtesy of the SWA itself. They had, at the last minute, decided to add a disco ball and switch the theme of the party from “garden dance” to “high school prom.” Takashi wasn’t exactly sure what a ‘high school prom’ even was, but allegedly it had been a popular ritual practiced by youth in the human world for some time. He had done some brief research on the subject the previous night, but assumed his sources had been a bit outdated considering the horse-drawn carriages in the background of the photographs. To be honest, with all of the interferences in the form of changed orders from the SWA, as well as all the unnecessary excesses such as suits and skirts for the waiters and waitresses, Takashi considered it to be a miracle that they had managed to pull of the dinner at all. The schematic he had drawn up for table numbers had probably helped, as well as the other male lieutenants who had been “recruited” to help. He noticed that the female officers, in comparison, had been assigned to “supervise.” Their relative lack of activity was especially obvious now that everyone else was in a frenzy as the hour of the captain’s arrival quickly approached. Checking the time, Takashi gave a start as he realized there were only two minutes until the guests were scheduled to arrive. “They’ll be here any moment,” he took one last sweep of the tables to ensure everything was in its place, “Everyone take your positions!” he shouted with as much authority as he would on a battlefield. For indeed, it was a battlefield. One fought not with swords or fists, but with spotless silverware and shining service. The servers rushed to form a line near the entryway: an arbor covered with pink roses, and Takashi nodded towards them as they waited for the first captain to stroll through the entryway. Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock. “The champagne!” he exclaimed. They had forgotten it. But it was too late now. Dinnertime A dutiful elder brother was standing in a small but cozy kitchen, preparing food for his little sisters, who were staring wide-eyed at him from the table in the middle of the room. The young man's hands moved skillfully as he cut vegetables, meat and other ingredients for the evenings dinner. The man in question was wearing a full-length pink apron with an elegant bowtie and with long frills. At its front was embroidered in the perfect likeness of a large white rabbit, which was well-known in the Seireitei as Chappy the Bunny. At his side sat a large plate of freshly baked cupcakes in a variety of colorful flavors. Dessert for later, each cupcake had been baked personally and had a specific flavor. Their aroma filled the room and caused the little girls to fidget impatiently in their chairs, From behind, Kazuo's oldest sibling Natsuin approached carefully, sneaking up behind the chef, her eyes fixed on two cupcakes. She clenched and unclenched her hands, took a deep breath and lunged for the cupcakes, she grabbed them and made a beeline for her sister, chocolate flavored cupcake in hand. With great haste she reached out to give the cupcake to her sister, who greedily accepted the offered sweets; before they both turned to Kazuo who was still preparing the main dish. Keeping eye on their brother from the corner of their eye they swallowed before they attempted to take a bite out of the offered cupcake. Kazuo reacted with speed befitting the Lieutenant of the Second Division, and when the girls took a bite out of their cake, they realized that they were both gone. Snatched up by their brother at the last moment, who swiftly replaced the pilfered cupcakes on the plate. "No cupcakes until after dinner, or you'll ruin your appetite." He spoke softly without looking up from his cooking. Watching bits and pieces of the lovely family altercation from the perfect view of an open window were two individuals, perched against a wall that fed through the streets of the Rukongai. They were largely masked by the shadows, though the white coat of one of the onlookers stood out well enough from the darkness. They had all their bases covered, they were quiet as they neared the home, and they had taken to their placement as only members of the Onmitsukidō could; their Reiatsu was even perfectly hidden. Though just about everything for miles around would flicker with fragments of electricity every now and then. It was a surprise that no one had noticed by now. "So 'at's 'em, huh?", said the man in the coat, his accent light but noticeably American in nature. He leaned forward slightly, to take a better look at his compatriot. She was an obvious personage, dark skin, that mess of black hair and its unmissable streaks of red, the haori that she wore like it was a cape. Though she was different tonight, her usual outfit was gone in favour of a beautiful dress made up of sequins and an accompanying pair of heels, that somehow, despite all the years, she had never learned to walk in properly. Not that he was about to complain, of course. That was just how Seia was. "Yeah, that's Broody alright, didn't know he had kids, though", replied Honoria whilst seeming contemplative. Maybe this had been a bad idea, she questioned herself before dropping down from her place on the wall. There was a clink as her heels struck stone, she hobbled forward, but found her balance in the next moment. The man looked down upon her with a look of utter confusion, though it turned to relief when he realised that she hadn't destroyed the heels of her shoes. Somehow. "'e ain't a dad ya dope, 'e clearly a brother", after his indignant response, the man was quick to follow behind her, his own descent being a sight more graceful than hers, there was a noticeable clink from the spurs that had been strapped to the back of his boots though. "But why 'ave me track 'im down?" "He's a major stick in the mud, Johnny, kinda like ol' Tibs was, figured I could help him out, he needs somethin' like this", her conviction suddenly renewed, Seia stepped forward, blissfully ignoring Johnny's insults and corrections, of course. "Every time ye' say d'at, ye' end up drinkin' 'em under the table from which d'hey never recover", Johnny was protesting now, a look of genuine worry coming over his face. As a man of justice, allowing Seia to continue like this was something he couldn't abide by. She turned to face him. "Yeah... Well, that's their problem", she replied with a dispassionate shrug, resuming her walk towards the front entrance of the Hanazawa household. "I swear...", his two longest fingers grabbed the end of his wide-brimmed hat and slunk it down over his eyes in shame and defeat. He could resist of course, but it had been years since he'd last seen her, and she just happened to be playing to his sense of nostalgia. He would have to pray instead. "May the Lord have mercy on yer soul, brother" He began to leave, spurs rattling with every step. "Ye just take care, y'hear?" "Yeah, thanks Munny!", she flashed him a wave, though the tone was a genuine one. "'ey, ya promised ye wouldn't!", he decried, a dark shiver having run down his spine at the mention of his real name. "Right, thanks — Law!", she said again, this time with a roll of her eyes. She never understood it, Percy Patrick Munny was a perfectly fine name. As the two old veterans went their own ways, Seia gave herself a quick bump of her own fists to psyche herself up, then rapt her hand against the doorframe to get the attention of its occupants. The Arrivals As Takashi so desperately tried to find something that would have to fill the open spot where the champagne was supposed to be standing, three sets of eyes had locked onto his flustered behavior across the room—especially that wonderful pink tuxedo of his had drawn some attention to itself. Shiemi sighed as she sat in her plush chair and brushed a few stray hairs out of her face. She loved parties as much as the next shinigami, but using blackmail—''fabricated blackmail'', even!—seemed a little too much, even to her. Beside her sat two members of the SWA, both of them giggling as they watched Takashi desperately try to salvage what he could before the guests would arrive. Giving both of them a bored glare, Shiemi then leaned back in her plush chair, “Instead of doing nothing productive you could try finding that elusive Captain of mine. Use the board’s secured blackmail-material if, and only if, Plan A fails. Now, off with you!” She watched the two women run off in bursts of Shunpo ''before turning her attention back on Lieutenant Sakuma as he ordered people around in a desperate attempt to salvage what he could. “I can’t help but feel a little bad for him,” Shiemi mused to herself as she watched the Sixth’s Lieutenant running around like a headless chicken before reaching out behind her to pull out one of several bottles of champagne, the rest still cleverly concealed behind ''Bakudo-spells the SWA had procured through certain… favors ''in the ''Kido-corps, “Then again…” Giving the bottle of champagne a wry look, Shiemi turned her attention back on Takashi as she slowly rose from the chair she had been occupying since arriving to rule ove—err, supervise the event. She quickly noted down where Sakuma was occupied for the time being before grabbing the champagne, and carefully snuck closer to her target at hand. Keeping the champagne-bottle tight under her arm, Shiemi then raised both her hands towards Takashi as she knelt on the ground a few feet away, only to slam them both down onto the floor. “Bakudo #21, Sekienton!” A huge plume of bright red smoke filled the central area, enveloping everyone close by and receiving more than a few choice curses—especially from one particular Takashi Sakuma. Uncorking the pressured bottle of champagne and pointing it in the direction she had last seen the Sixth’s Lieutenant, Shiemi then placed her thumb in front of the bottle’s opening, letting the beverage spray out at the area in front of her and earning several shrieks from both her intended victims as well as the bystanders. “Sorry, Sakuma-san,” she chirped before sprinting back to her plush chair, “Orders are orders!”